


Masks

by peterandtonys



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Gun Violence, Hurt Peter, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Poor Peter Parker, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-14 17:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandtonys/pseuds/peterandtonys
Summary: Peter didn’t remember what it felt like to be happy.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> please heed the trigger warnings: suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self-harm, eating disorder, gun violence, overdose  
> if any of these things trigger you, PLEASE do not read this. if you do choose to read this, i suggest taking breaks if it becomes too overwhelming. take care of yourselves first.  
> without further ado, here is: Masks

Peter didn’t remember what it felt like to be happy. He had memories, happy ones, of May, of Ben, of his parents. Of Tony, too. But he knew that it’s been a long time since he felt the way he did during those times. Content. Amused. Joyful. Alive.

When he first began to feel low, it showed. His usually bubbly personality had been dimmed, and naturally, people noticed. May asked if he felt okay. Ned gave him concerned glances as Peter sat down in his chair one day, not speaking a word. Tony asked him what was wrong as they worked in the lab.

Peter didn’t know what was wrong. All he recognized was that he was noticeably worrying people.

And so Peter created masks.

Not literal masks, of course. His masks were faces he hid behind. Whenever he felt sad, but knew he’d concern people if it showed, he pretended he was happy. Go around all day, acting like his normal self, no matter how much he wanted to hide in the darkness of his room and never come out.

Peter had a hard time using these masks at first. But the more he used them, the easier it got. Peter naturally hid any and every trace of a negative feeling now. This eventually led to newer, more intense and more dangerous feelings, but Peter refused to reach out. He knew what would happen. Aunt May would find out and be too worried and distracted to go to work. Ned would think he was weird and just making up excuses. And Tony, well, Tony would never want to interact with him again. Peter was already an annoying burden on his back, and sometimes Peter wondered why Tony hadn’t gotten rid of him already.

So what if he felt like he couldn’t move from his bed? If he was only eating one meal a day? If he pondered whether taking the whole bottle of pills on the counter would make him happy, because then at least he’s not  _ here _ ?

_ Here _ became more and more of a challenge to live in.

That bottle of pills was his only comfort.

Because he knew, no matter how bad anything got, he’d always have that bottle.

As a last case measure.

Even if sometimes he wanted it to be a first case.

* * *

 

One day Peter came home from patrol with the overwhelming urge to  _ feel. _

Feel something other than the shame, guilt, and hopelessness that followed him day after day.

He shuffled quickly into his room, pulling off his suit and stumbling into the bathroom.

Turning the shower knob on the hottest setting, Peter climbed into the tub and sat down. He just sat there, frozen for a few seconds before glancing at his surroundings. When his eyes settled upon the sight of May’s old razor, he hesitated. He knew what self-harm, specifically cutting, was. He’d even had a friend that was a cutter and had to seek treatment. He’d never seen them again, though.

For a long time, Peter stared at the razor. He’d always wondered why people self-harmed. It never seemed like it solved anything, never seemed to have a purpose behind it. He knew people who were depressed tend to cut.

_ ‘It wouldn’t hurt to find out,’  _ Peter thought.

He would also do anything at this point to feel something else.

And so he grabbed the razor.

* * *

 

That was the first time of many.

* * *

Cutting became a coping mechanism for Peter.

_ 70 on a test? Cut. _

_ Bills are piling up? Cut. _

_ Fail to save someone on patrol? Cut. _

It also became a punishment.

The shame and guilt that Peter was plagued by now every day fed off of his rough past and low self-esteem. So he’d cut for every day Ben wasn’t here  _ (because of him), _ for being a burden on May and Tony, for being a waste of space, for being  _ him. _

* * *

 

Limiting his food became a coping mechanism for Peter, too.

Doing it purposefully wasn’t too hard, either. His appetite had already decreased a long time ago, and it was hard for him to remember a time where he hadn’t been eating only a single meal a day.

His metabolism didn’t agree with this change in diet, of course. But the hunger pains kept Peter grounded. They gave him something to focus on other than how worthless and useless he is.

And so Peter ate less and less of his meals. It was hard. So. so hard. But he knew he didn’t deserve the food. Why should someone as awful and stupid as Peter have food on the table when there are other kids, so much better than himself, who deserved that food so much  more?

He lost weight rapidly. And when he looked in the mirror and saw himself, cheeks gaunt and ribs showing prominently, he smiled.

* * *

 

If anyone noticed Peter worsening, they didn’t say.

Peter took this as a win.

He’d notice May staring at him longer than usual at times. Or Tony eyeing him warily as he entered the lab, looking worried that Peter might keel over.

But Peter put on his happy face, acting as content and interested as ever.

On the inside, though, he wondered where his next cut might be.

* * *

 

It all came to head on a July afternoon.

Peter had been out patrolling most of the day. He was sat on top of an old building in Queens, watching the city move about its day. His stomach growled angrily, which he ignored.

Karen suddenly started talking in his mask.

“Police reports say there is a fight taking place two blocks from your location. Criminals involved are armed. A civilian is being held hostage inside. The police have not yet intervened.” 

Peter quickly stood, getting ready to swing into action. He jumped off the roof, despite the wave of nausea it brought on.

Five minutes later, 4 of the criminals were down and Peter hurriedly made his way over to the civilian, who was still cuffed to a metal chair.

She looked young, maybe in her early 20s, Peter thought to himself. She was on the edge of panic when he reached her.

Peter began undoing the cuffs while trying to calm her down.

“Hey, it’s okay. Take a breath. Can you tell me your name?”

The woman closed her eyes briefly, exhaling before she responded shakily, “I’m-I’m-” she took another breath, “I’m Isabelle.”

“Ok Isabelle. It’s nice to meet you. You’re going to be fine, I promise, just focus on your breathing. In and out, ok? You can do it. In and out-” Peter was cut off by a loud gunshot from behind him. Apparently, one of the criminals just didn’t want to stay down.

The man had his gun pointed at Isabelle, who was still bound by one cuff to the chair.

“H-hey man, how bout’ you just-uh- put the gun down and we can all just walk away, okay?” Peter said nervously, trying to steer the attention towards himself.

“No!” the man yelled, shaking. “Nobody is gonna walk away, you hear me? Nobody! Not you, not her, not-” he cut himself off before starting again, “Not me.”

Before Peter could respond, his spider-sense screamed and a gunshot rang throughout the building.

Peter froze. And Spider-man never freezes.

He glanced down a moment later and saw Isabelle slack in the chair, a bullet hole in her forehead and eyes staring at nothing.

Peter had never swung away faster in his life.

* * *

 

Peter was in a full out panic by the time he reached his apartment. 

He stumbled through his window, tearing his mask off his face in the process.

May wasn’t home, he briefly remembered. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Peter had froze.

And now Isabelle was dead.

It was all his fault.

He staggered through the apartment before losing his balance and collapsing on the floor.

_ How could he let this happen? _

He faintly recognized he was now full-fledged sobbing. He banged his fists against the carpet.  _ ‘Why?’ _  He wanted to scream.  _ ‘Why her and not me?’ _

Peter raised his head slowly from the ground, his eyes taking in his surroundings before falling on his one and only comfort.

The bottle of pills he thought about often, too often, sat upon the counter, in the same spot they had been in for months.

Peter knew it was time. After all, he was only prolonging the inevitable. All the moments he spent, yearning for an escape, for an end to his suffering, had led to this.

Peter knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t survive this. His masks couldn’t hide this. He couldn’t keep going. He couldn’t keep  _ living. _

He knew May would miss him. Even with all his flaws and shortcomings, May would miss Peter. Because he was her child. Her baby.

But she would move on. Quickly, he hoped. Tony would be there to support her.

Tony, he thought. Tony would be so  _ relieved. _ So glad to finally have Peter gone, to not have to deal with him anymore. He might be hurting May by leaving, but he knew he was helping Tony.

He knew he was helping Ned, too, MJ. All the people in his life who so obviously only stuck around because they pitied him. Who knew who he truly was. A useless, worthless, disappointing teen, who only cares for himself.

Despite knowing all of this, knowing that almost everyone in his life would be  _ happy _ he was gone, he still longed for them. So as he swallowed those pills, he thought of his friends, his family, of everyone and everything he’s ever loved.

_ May, trying and failing to cook Peter’s favorite meal on his birthday. The smell of burnt pizza and warm smiles. _

_ Ned,  looking at Peter with a grin as they watched The Empire Strikes Back for the hundredth time. _

_ Tony, clapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders and steering him into Tony’s lab for the first time. _

Peter laid down on his bed for the last time, sinking into the warmth of the mattress as the darkness pulled him away. And for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.  
  
  



	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truths are revealed, and Peter slowly gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, please heed the trigger warnings and tags!

Peter woke to a loud, constant beeping and bright white lights. 

_ He survived. _

_ No. _

_ No. _

_ No. _

Suddenly he realized there were hands everywhere, some trying to hold him down and others working frantically to adjust the machines that surrounded him.

In the midst of his panic, all he heard were bouts of what was being yelled all around him.

_ “We’re gonna need to restrain him,” _

_ “Get some sedatives,” _

_ “Peter, sweetie, breathe, just breathe-” _

Before he could make sense of anything being said, the darkness started to swirl and he was out again.

* * *

 

When Peter came to, he didn’t fight. He accepted that no matter how much he didn’t want to be, he was still alive.

Tony was the first one he saw.

As Peter took in his surroundings, he slowly noticed him leaning against the doorframe of his hospital room with a cup of coffee in his hands and a frown.

“Hey, kid.” he said.

Peter responded quietly, “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

They exchanged a few moments of silence before Tony cleared his throat. 

“Your aunt just left to get some food in the cafeteria, so, uhm, I’ll go get her.” he said.

“No, no please don’t,” Peter replied quickly. “She probably needs the food, anyways.”

Tony considered this for a moment before reluctantly saying, “Okay.”

The awkward silence between them continued until Peter couldn’t take it anymore. “Mr. Stark, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to-”

“No, no-Peter, just” Tony paused before speaking again, “God, kid.” He was quiet this time, “You really scared us.”

A horrified expression crossed Peter’s face. He’d put them through even  _ more _ pain. God, why couldn’t he have just  _ died _ ?

Peter spoke hastily, “Mr. Stark, I’m so, so sorry for causing you trouble, I just- I didn’t-” Tears slipped quietly down his face, “I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Tony’s facade broke at this. He swiftly crossed the room before wrapping Peter up in a tight hug.

Peter was taken aback by the action, but quickly melted into his embrace, the need for comfort too overwhelming.

Tony hesitantly pulled away, sitting down on the armchair next to Peter’s bed. “Kid, what happened?” he murmured.

Peter burst into sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t save her- I couldn’t,” he hiccuped, “He pointed the-the gun at her and he fired, but I didn’t- I didn’t even move.” He said hushedly. “I just froze.”

Tony promptly wrapped Peter up in another hug, tucking Peter’s head under his chin.

“Oh, kid.” he mumbled.

Peter started speaking again, the sounds muffled against his chest.

“I’ve just been so, so  _ sad _ these past months, and-and I know I’m just a huge bother to you, to May, to-” he sobbed again, “to  _ everyone _ .”

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” Tony whispered, untucking him from his chest. “Peter,  _ look at me. _ ”

Peter hesitantly looked up at him, snot and tears mixing beneath his nose.

“Peter, you were  _ not  _ and never  _ will _ be a bother, okay? May and I will  _ always _ love you, kid.  _ Always.”  _ He stopped for a moment, considering what he was about to say. “Wh-when May called me,” Tony explained, “and she told me you were in the hospital, I didn’t know what to expect.

“But it was never this.” he admitted.

“I tried to protect you in every way I could,” he confessed, “But I never thought the greatest danger to you would be yourself.”

Peter stared for a moment before the dam finally broke.

“It’s been so  _ hard _ ,” he whispered. “My parents die, and then Ben died because of me.”

Tony almost argued, but decided to let him speak. “Everyone around me  _ dies _ . An-And then I start feeling sad and depressed all the time, which makes  _ no sense _ , because I’m a fucking  _ superhero _ and I go to a good school and I have friends and May and you but I-” he sniffled. “I still feel sad. But whenever I showed it, it would worry May and Ned and I  _ hate  _ worrying people so I-I hid it all,” he admitted. And the months go on, and I feel worse, and sometimes I can’t even get out of bed, but I  _ have _ to keep hiding it. And somewhere along the line I start cutting, and I’m barely eating, and I just-

“I couldn’t do it anymore.” 

Tony was at a loss. He had been shocked,  _ terrified _ to find out Peter had attempted to kill himself. But knowing all of this had been hiding under the surface for months felt like a stab to the heart.

Tony decided he’d figure out what to do soon. But right now, his kid needed warmth, he needed comfort, so that was exactly what he would get.

15 minutes later, May walked into Peter’s hospital room to see Tony laying down with Peter, arms wrapped tightly around the latter and the sound of Peter’s light snoring filling the room.

* * *

 

Peter’s recovery was  _ not _ an easy road.

Quite the opposite, actually.

The first 2 months of his treatment were the hardest.

At the time, Peter didn’t know how to get better, how to grow out of his old habits. He didn't want to improve his life, and so he didn’t try to.

Treatment intensified, and things went downhill before they went up.

But slowly, things got better.

He learned new ways to cope with his feelings, and he ended up helping others in the process.

He still had his low points, but now he knew how to rise out of them.

Peter knew he might never be fully recovered, but for now, he was happier than he had ever been.

And that was enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here it is! I apologize that it took longer than expected. i'm really glad to have finished my first fanfiction here. I hope to write new and longer ones in the future. my tumblr is peterandtonys if you ever need to talk or want to cry about how much you love tony and peter. always remember that if peter can get through this, you can too.  
> suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255

**Author's Note:**

> i have struggled with the same things peter does in this fic (depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, eating disorder, and more). i am currently in recovery, and i am planning to show peter going through his recovery as well. if you are struggling, please reach out. it does get better.  
> you can find me on tumblr as peterandtonys. feel free to send me prompts and scream at me about irondad. i love friends! and if you ever, ever need someone to talk to, you can 100% message me. it will not bother me and i will never, ever judge you.  
> suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> see you next time!


End file.
